When I am not clutching my stomach in anxiety over the deterioration of journalisticprinciples south of the border, I am thinking about clothes. I can be very shallow that way.
Maybe it is the season, but I am not the only one: The encroaching winter fills us with dread. We need to assuage that fear with well-fitting clothes. Perhaps we can unite the polarized parties through our universal love of auttumn wardrobes.
I mean, it is so easy to forget about dying soldiers and civilians in Iraq when they brink out discount racks of sumptuous corduroy at the new H&M.
And I am sure that even bullying Fox pundits would keep my mic on when I rage against the prices of jeans (when did the working man's clothes reach $250????)
And family value small-towners and urban hipsters alike would fawn over the gorgeous alpaca wool shawl that my friend Jane knit for me.
And the hordes of boot-fondling masses at Brown's shoes? Tell me that is not a culture of life we are supporting.
Now if we can only figure out a way to keep jean shopping from making me cry, this could be a united planet.
